


Take Me Out

by EyeofMazikeen



Series: Songs in The Key of MorMor [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Reichenfeels, mormor, song ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeofMazikeen/pseuds/EyeofMazikeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Take Me Out' by Franz Ferdinand</p><p>Fourth in the series of a MorMor themed songficlets that were originally posted on Tumblr. Prompt included the song and a request for a prequel to 'You Cause As Much Sorrow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Out

_**So if you're lonely** _

_**You know I'm here** _

_**Waiting for you** _

_**I'm just a cross-hair** _

_**I'm just a shot away from you** _

 

There’s something comforting about cold, high places. At the moment any comfort is welcome. Sebastian moves his hands up to his collar, turning it against the wind. The shivers aren’t from the wind, though. The gun in Jim’s coat hadn’t escaped his notice when they left the flat. Now there he was, seated on the ledge of the roof of St. Bart’s with Sherlock Holmes and a loaded weapon.

He can see the madman perfectly through his scope, so he watches that Westwood suited frame like he’d watch a mark. A gust of wind hits, and the sniper can see the skull and crossbone lining of the criminal’s suit coat. That’s his Jim, always dressed to kill.

Blue eyes narrow, intent in scrutinizing every detail of the drama. God, it was beautiful, watching his boss work, especially against Holmes. His mastermind really is at his best when pitted against the lanky detective.

There’s no making out what words the geniuses are sparring with, so Seb makes due with body language. Jim’s is confusing as ever. True disappointment shows itself in the set of his thin shoulders. It’s gone in an instant, and the smaller man jumps up to stalk circles around Holmes like a shark circling bait. Sebastian spares a moment to wonder if his mastermind is the least bit comforted, knowing that his sniper watches over him like some demented, gun-toting angel from the roof next door. Like death, Jim’s only other close friend, Seb is merely a crosshair away.

Something Sherlock says sets the criminal off. In an instant Jim’s disappointment comes back, to quickly replaced by complete rage. A moment of wild gesturing passes, and is followed by the eerie calm that Sebastian knows all too well. That’s the “I’ve got it all sorted” calm. Nothing good comes from that calm. The smaller man locks his hands behind his back briefly, and Sebastian’s heart contracts. He hadn't believed Jim when the smaller man told him that today was the final act, over that morning’s tea.

Sebastian swallows thickly. He certainly believes it now.

 

_**And if you leave here** _

_**You leave me broken shattered alive** _

_**I'm just a cross-hair** _

_**I'm just a shot then we can die** _

_**I know I won't be leaving here with you** _

__

‘ _You can’t leave me...’_ Sometimes it seems like Jim can read his mind. Sebastian hopes that his mastermind can read it now.

Sherlock grasps Jim’s lapels, and that fucking idiot is dangling HIS Jim off the roof. Immediately Sebastian’s finger tightens. Whatever consequences he’d have to pay would be worth it, if kept Moriarty safe. Jim’d most likely kill him, that he could live with. Seeing Jim splattered across the pavement, not so much.

But Jim’s not afraid. He’s laughing, and Sherlock’s face looks like he’s the one being hung over the ledge. Sebastian breathes deeply, forcing his hand to relax. Jim’s got this under control. He should know that by now. The detective pulls his boss back up, and Sebastian’s heart starts to beat again.

His eyes narrow as his boss flirts with the detective, body language all seduction, and he bites back a growl. Sherlock responds to the overtures by stepping up onto the ledge, and the sniper blinks in surprise. What the fuck is going on? Jim’s gun hasn’t even come into play yet. Jim walks away, leaving Sherlock at the edge.

‘ _Just jump already, fucker.’_

Sebastian’s chest clenches again as the taller man hops down from his perch, laughter evident on his face. Jim glares as detective stalks up to him, circling him like a predator. That stupidly lanky frame is blocking his view of his boss and Seb debates solving the Holmes problem his own way yet again.

It happens almost too quickly to process. He catches just a flash of Jim’s face, ecstatic, before the shot rings out. Relief momentarily floods the sniper’s system, but sickness creeps in as he realizes that it’s not Sherlock’s body that falls. Through the scope, he makes himself look at his boss’s crumpled frame. He’s killed 132 people; this is the first time blood has made him sick.

He packs up his rifle, not caring about the remainder of the show. Jim’d be pissed if he weren’t dead. When he reaches the stairs without Jim calling, he knows that he’s going back to the flat alone.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like MorMor ficlet of your own, please feel free to drop me a line! I'm currently taking requests, so send me your song, the verses (if you want to pick them yourself), and a prompt (if you have one) and I'll post you some MorMor in return!


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